


Waiting for the Kiss of Life

by PJVilar



Series: Our Year Out of Time Universe [2]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, Jealousy, Long-Term Relationship(s), Love, M/M, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism, trying to get pregnant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 15:13:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3982807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PJVilar/pseuds/PJVilar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I knew you were the brains of the operation," she says, her head leaned back now against Brad's chest. She moans softly with Nate's next thrust and Brad can't help but laugh. She's never thought that at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting for the Kiss of Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eudaimon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eudaimon/gifts).



> Title taken from "Slow Motion" by Patrick Wolf. Written in 2011, finally posted here. :)

It's two days before Brad remembers to ask. He's been so busy. They're up at Poke and Gina's when he remembers, because they're alone for a minute while the dishes are cleared.

"So how was dinner with Christie?"

The sudden tightening of Nate's jaw, the blush across his ears. Admittedly, Brad gets the wrong idea. Then Nate explains as much as he's able before coffee and cookies are brought out.

That's not much.

*

"I don't know why I'm surprised. She always loved you."

"I'll always love her, Brad. But that's not really why." Nate's hands drift over his shoulders. Brad doesn't say stop when the heels of Nate's palms press in more and his touch turns slowly into a real massage. He's far past having to pretend he doesn't need things like this.

"So tell me why."

"Here's what she told me. She's 36. At the end of another breakup. Successful business and money isn't an issue. She's ready."

"And she....oh. . . " Brad drops his head down and hears Nate's chuckling response. He tilts his head to grant better access to the knot in the side of his neck. He slaps Nate's hand there but it's not even half-hearted.

"She wants you to be the father," Brad finishes. Nate wraps his arms around Brad's front and hugs him tight, still kneeling behind him on the bed.

"She'd like me to give her some sperm. And I didn't say yes. I know it's strange and out of nowhere and -- well, it's very Christie, right?"

Brad just sighs. He loves her nearly as much as Nate does, but without the complication of having been lovers. Nate assures him he won't say yes unless they both decide they're okay with it. The other assurances are quiet, after he pulls Brad backwards to lie down in their shared bed.

*

Christie looks up at Brad from under her bangs, chin flat to her knees. "Argh, I don't know. Maybe I'm doing it wrong."

Brad pours her another shot of tequila and one for himself. Technically, this a community garden and they shouldn't have booze in here, but hell, rules made to be broken and all that. This late at night, it's usually just squat members and key holders hanging out anyway. Nobody's going to bust them.

They clink glasses and knock them back, then Christie holds her hand up to stop his reply. "Remember, Colbert, you're talking to a menstruating woman, who is drinking for the first time in five weeks and can't manage to get herself pregnant on her ovulation day with a turkey baster after having spent most of her life on, like, a fucking aresenal of contraceptives." She taps her shotglass twice in the dirt, an appeal for more. "So, I love you and all, but tread carefully, bro."

"You want Nate to come down?" Brad asks. He glances up at their back window as he says it. The light is on.

"Nah," Christie says, watching as Brad pours them both again. "He's giving me the gift of his highly motile sperm. Even if it isn't doing shit yet. But you can give me the gift of getting shitfaced with me and coping with my crap." She raises her glass with one hand and tugs at the hem of her skirt with the other. Brad smiles.

"Done and done," he says, and they both take the shot.

*

Nate looks no different when he comes home. His hair is neat and his shirt cuffs are buttoned, one curl of ink escaping down the side of his thumb.

But his face--

"I'm not doing that again," he says, and brushes past Brad in the hallway. He closes the bedroom door behind him.

They'd all agreed this was okay. They'd all agreed, a consensus. Christie was having no luck six months in, and the idea of getting inseminated at her doctor's office -- on a cold table, feet in the stirrups -- was so far off from how she wanted this to go.

Brad had never seen her cry before. He thought Christie was one of those women who just didn't, never needed to. Not the case. So it had been his suggestion, trying it the old-fashioned way. Just for baby-making, no harm and no jealousy.

Even though he just came back from a climb at Gentrify, Brad goes to the kitchen window, unsticks the pane from the sill and throws it wide open.

He steps out into a cool autumn night, climbs the fire escape to the roof, and then goes down the side of the building. No harness, no equipment, just high-end sneakers and calloused fingers. This kind of shit isn't really necessary for his training anymore, because he climbs to take kids up mountains and face their demons. Not to run from the cops. But still. He can still do it, and it's a better option than screaming or drinking.

Not entirely stupid, he takes the stairs back up to the apartment. With another bright idea.

*

"Leave it to Nate to make insemination kinky," Christie says. She has a camisole on, bright green cotton with bright blue lace. It's nice against her skin. She's naked from the waist down and Brad has already teased her twice about how much money she spent on this mattress. It doesn't make a single sound, even with three bodies moving on it.

"Brad's idea, actually," Nate says. His look of concentration is probably more put-on than real, his lips pursed in the arrest of a smile. Brad reaches forward, over Christie, to touch Nate's shoulders. The smile blooms full and he pushes forward into Christie.

"I knew you were the brains of the operation," she says, her head leaned back now against Brad's chest. She moans softly with Nate's next thrust and Brad can't help but laugh. She's never thought that at all.

"Can I kiss your baby?" she whispers and for a second Brad has no idea what she's talking about. But Nate kisses her shoulder, then Brad's fingertips. He moves back onto his knees and drags her forward a little for a better angle, dragging her slightly out of Brad's lap. He looks beautiful.

"That's up to my baby," Nate says sweetly, looking into Brad until the understanding is there. And then he turns back to watching his cock move into Christie, while she and Brad kiss for the first time. It's deep and slow and good.

Eighteen days later, she gets her period.

*

They have two pillows beneath her hips and two more spread across the bed so she can put her feet on them if she needs to. For now, Nate holds her behind the knees and fucks her with a curved stroke, trying to get as deep as he can and press close to her g-spot.

Her hair is in her face and she's grinning. Brad grins too, stretched out alongside her and naked. He pinches her nipples hard like she asked, releases them, pinches them just when she gets relaxed. The yelp she makes is great, and he likes the soft feel and dark look of them between his fingers. Above them, Nate snorts.

"My kid," Christie says, rocking quickly against the mattress with Nate's thrusts, "had better appreciate. . . all this fucking missionary sex I've had to endure."

"Poor you," Brad says and adds a bit of a pull this time when he pinches down. She cuffs him in the shoulder but she's moaning while she does it.

"Brad," Nate gets out. Brad looks and sees the sheen of sweat down his neck, the tension in his chest. He's close. "Make her come."

"Yes, sir," he says and, before Christie can make a crack about that, he sucks on his thumb and then gets it on her clit, rubbing upwards like she mentioned before.

Orgasms can aid conception, just like missionary and all the other shit they've done this time around, including Nate running out of a meeting and Brad rearranging his climb schedule. All so they could get here today within an hour of Christie's thermometer announcing this could be the day.

"Come on, bitch," Christie says teasingly. "Want your come." Nate rolls his eyes but he goes harder and the sound of their bodies coming together is fantastically loud and lewd. Brad can't help it: still stroking Christie, he slides down the length of the bed and sits up. They're both deep into it now, almost coming, and Brad curls his palm around the base of Nate's dick. His hand grazes against the soft, dark curls of Christie's bush with each stroke.

Christie comes first and Nate's just behind her, trembling deep into her pussy and cradled in Brad's fist.

*

"Don't pass out on me, Fick. I have a date later."

Nate stares up at the ceiling with an idiotic smile on his face. Brad knows it well. It's the de facto post-sex expression, or at least it has been ever since he came back to Bravo 2 after they were apart. Early days, the sex was still amazing, but Nate always looked worried afterwards, like Brad would slip away somehow.

He looked that way when he came home, after the first time at the baby stuff. But he looks normal now, happy and sacked out.

"Nah," he says. Brad finishes buttoning up Christie's flannel shirt for her. She has to stay like this, knees to chest, for another fifteen minutes or so. "I should get Brad home."

"You should get me home?" Brad says. It's a sign of how long they've been together than he can feel this indignant when Nate is butt-naked. "I'm twelve now?"

"You're a dipshit," Christie says slyly. " He means so he can take care of that." It's just a toss of her head, but everyone knows what she means. Brad's the only one in the bed who hasn't gotten off. And he's hard still, and riding high on the whole thing.

"I don't mind, you know," Christie says. The woman is nothing but bravado but there might be just a dash of shyness to the request. She's an old school polyamorist -- and Nate is a former one. The amount of agreements they made before embarking on this reminded Brad of some community board meetings, boredom included. They didn't cover this possibility ahead of time.

"You don't mind. . . if I fuck Nate right now?" Brad looks over at him. His Nate, just in a different way.

"If you don't mind if I come again," Christie says. She drags her hand down her belly and slides two fingers inside her pussy, just like that. "It can only help."

Brad doesn't have to ask Nate, because Nate's already reaching for him, his legs scissoring apart.

*

There's a lot to consider. Christie being able to see; the fact that Nate is tapped but wanting. Brad devises a solid strategy, though. As it turns out, Christie's arsenal is not limited to birth control -- there's all sorts of lube to choose from in the file cabinet drawer beneath her white desk that houses her supplies.

Christie watches intently, caressing her clit and the hood surrounding it, nice and slick still from her own wetness, and Nate's.

That's just what Brad says into Nate's ear, chest to Nate's back, spread out together long and lean on a slight diagonal across the bed.

"She's nice and wet with your come," Brad says. He's propped up on one elbow and holding Nate's knee up with his other hand. It's a bit awkward, but Nate is relaxed all over and it's easy to thrust into his ass, easy to whisper right into his ear while watching Christie himself. "I know how that feels."

Nate chuckles and works himself with his hand. He's half hard and not trying for anything, just touching where it feels good, spending a lot of time playing with his balls and pressing at the base of his groin. Brad rubs his hand over the tip of Nate's cock just out of curiosity -- he is getting harder.

Brad misses what Nate says the first time. He leans closer to his lips. "Hmm?"

Christie is whimpering now, moving her hips. It's so hot and so natural at the same time. Brad feels like he's seen her do this a hundred times, although he never has.

Nate is tight around him, his skin soft. Brad wraps one arm around Nate's front and admires the line of exploding colors on Nate's own forearm, laid across Brad's.

"I said," Nate whispers, turning so Brad can hear, "do you feel good," and Nate takes a breath. "Love," he adds.

Brad can only say yes and hold Nate against his chest, as Christie's sounds get more choked off coming from between her teeth.

"Wanna hear you, too," Nate says. His hand moves faster on himself now, and Brad presses his face to Nate's hair, and complies.

*

They find out via care package. A box full of their favorite things from the main location of Christie's bakery, a bottle of Veuve Cliquot, and a plastic pregnancy test stick attached to the champagne with an ungodly amount of white ribbon.

Nate whoops when he gets it, the two little pink stripes lined up on the test. Then he all but throws the stick across the room in a tear to get at the bakery box first.

"Red velvet cupcakes," Nate moans. "She does love me."

Brad just give him a look as he stuffs the top of the cupcake into his mouth. "You look more excited about the cupcake."

"I am excited about the cupcake. You know, before she was an award winning vegan celebrity baker blah blah blah, I used to get this stuff all the time." He swallows the frosting he was mumbling around and looks into the box again. "I've missed you," he says to the desserts.

Brad smooths a hand over Nate's back and steps closer before Nate inhales the whole box.

"Here's the scones you like," Nate says, and hands Brad his favorite, oatmeal and blueberry.

"So are you excited about the other thing?" Brad asks. He tries to sound placid but Nate knows him too well.

"Now you're worried? After all the group sex, now you're worried?" Nate starts untying the ribbon from the champagne bottle. His fingers are quick and efficient.

"I'm never going to lose you over sex," Brad says plainly. Nate stops cold at that but Brad did have more to say. "I know I'm not going to lose you, period. But it's a kid." He takes a bite of the scone. Man, Christie loves him, too. It's still warm.

"It's her kid. I'm the sperm donor and the friend. And not Uncle Nate, that's just fucking creepy. If you want to be Uncle Brad, that's your show."

Brad puts his scone down takes the champagne out of Nate's hands. He gets a foot on one of the kitchen chairs, braces the bottle on his thigh and pushes up on the cork. "No thanks," he says. "I'm happy to observe from a distance until the kid is fully mobile."

The cork pops and hits the ceiling, then falls somewhere over by the radiator. Nate parts with his cupcake liner and puts his arms around Brad.

"I know. You and your baby phobia."

"It's not a phobia," Brad says, but he relaxes into the embrace. It's Tuesday night. They have nowhere to be.

"I want to give you anything you want," Nate whispers. It's true. It's always been true. Brad can't deny that, even in moments of pussy weakness like these. "Tell me and I'll give it to you."

Brad slips out of Nate's arms, picks up the champagne and the bakery box. He starts backing up toward the hallway.

"I want to have this in bed," he says and Nate will give him that, and all the other things unsaid.


End file.
